


Those Flames That Did Rise

by AdessoFaSilenzio



Category: Eerie Crests (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, house fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdessoFaSilenzio/pseuds/AdessoFaSilenzio
Summary: Rumor has it that the house in the forest of Blue Crests is haunted by a malevolent ghost and a little girl that giggles. Small Town Haunts, a new ghost hunting show by the Travel Channel, is on site to investigate and film their pilot episode. Malek Solh, the leader of the group, wants to help the spirit cross over. The spirit just wants to be left alone - or possibly to not be dead anymore.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Dan (@wendyhsiao on tumblr) for coming up with this idea and allowing me to run with it. This is going to be a wild ride. <3

The first time Sara laid eyes on the house in the woods she felt her stomach drop out of her body and her heart soar into her throat. It was a great looming mass of char and architecture skeleton - brick and cement, portions of the front porch still standing proud; it made her inexplicably sad and also anxious beyond words. Parts of the structure were still covered in blackened soot, dry but velvety to the touch. A large portion of the roof had caved in, though most surprisingly remained, and many of the windows were missing completely. Greenery grew wild right up the porch and through the husk that was once the front door.

How the house had gotten to be where it was she had no idea. There were no roads nearby, just a dirt trail no one had traversed in decades. Evergreens rose tall and regal into the sky around her, deep velvet-colored pines and dusky firs whispering that this was a sacred place. Ivy wound its way up the blackened walls and chimney, covering one side that was lit by the mid-day sun.

Before she truly knew what she was doing, Sara had carefully stepped up the eight poured cement stairs onto the porch and peeked around the door frame into a cavernous foyer - or at least what had once _been_ a cavernous foyer. The hair on her arms stood at attention and a shiver wracked her spine as the air cooled considerably. She was torn - spurred on by curiosity to see the rest of the house, yet terrified to go any further lest she awaken something better left sleeping.

Curiosity won in the end, and she carefully made her way in. Outside this place was warmth and sun and summer, but inside was dust and the still-faint smell of fire. It was cold and dark, and she shivered violently as she second guessed her trespassing. There were still some items scattered around - the bones of an armchair, a rug that definitely was not an original item the homeowners possessed… As she trekked further in, through the ruined living room and down a hallway toward the dining room and kitchen, things began to look less and less burned. Sara dared to trail her fingers along a hutch whose glass she could barely see through for the smoke-stain, and when she did she _saw him_. A boy behind her with red hair and brown eyes, watching her movements with an expression torn between anger and agony.

Gasping, she pivoted, only to find nothing. No one else was in the room. The air was still cold and her heart was beating out of her chest, but she didn’t bother to call out for the person. No one would have answered her anyway.

Sara didn’t hesitate to tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear and retreat quickly. She knew she hadn’t been alone in that house - she knew what she saw, but no one would believe her even if she said something.

She was new to Blue Crests, a fresh transfer into the high school, no friends, no anyone really. She had tried to fit in with some of the “cool kids”, but they didn’t seem to want anything to do with her, so instead Sara had tried out for the co-ed baseball team and decided to lay low. She had been wandering aimlessly in the woods near her house when she had stumbled upon the Great Structure, and for months she was too petrified to go back. It amazed her how her schoolmates spoke so casually about drinking in the old house; that, or bringing various significant others to fool around, or trying this or that drug surrounded by the spooky fire-licked walls.

One thing no one ever did, though, was vandalize the place.

Rumor had it that the ghost (who was well known around the town, surprisingly) attacked the only person to ever try spray painting the walls of the home. Sara wasn’t sure how true that was, but she wasn’t going to be the person to try and find out. According to Blue Crests lore the would-be criminal had ended up in the hospital with a spinal injury, and once recovered had moved out of Oregon altogether.

When she finally _did_ get the courage to return to the house, Sara brought with her offerings. She didn’t for a second doubt the existence of the ghost that haunted the halls, and she didn’t want to anger him more than she already had. She brought with her things a ghost might like - a Nintendo so he could see what technology was like, a toy truck from the antique shop in the square. A bag of Ghiradelli chocolates that she planned to share with him - ghosts couldn’t eat it anyway, they could only enjoy the smell and maybe feel of it. Cleansing sage and cedar from the witch store also in the square, but that one had come with a warning to notify the spirit she was visiting that she was not there to banish him, only to chase away any potentially malicious energies - to _protect_ him, in a sense. The woman who ran the store was beautiful in a way that Sara didn’t think was real; she looked like some ethereal dream and had a voice that sounded like music. She was enthralling.

She told Sara that she had a daughter who was homeschooled, but that she thought they would get along famously. “Poppy, her name is. After the most versatile flower in the world. Have you ever studied the language of flowers, Sara?” Sara didn’t remember giving the woman her name, and shook her head dumbly in response. She received a very knowing smile. “You should read into it sometime. It’s lovely and useful knowledge to possess.”

Sara laid out her offerings on a blanket in the dining room after that encounter, taking care not to scratch the table, and explained why she had brought each item. She could _feel_ the presence again, but he didn’t appear in the hutch, so she figured it might be a good sign. “I was torn on whether or not to actually burn this stuff-” she informed the air as she held up the sage mixture and felt the temperature of the room drop as it had the first time, “but I figured… you might not like fire very much. So I’ll leave it all here and maybe the smell itself will work?”

While she waited a few minutes in silence, Sara thought to herself how silly this must have looked. She unwrapped a chocolate and waved it a bit as though that would help disperse the scent, then popped it in her mouth and pocketed the wrapper. No use in littering when it would only make the spirit angry again, and the house was in chaotic half-burned disarray as was. Slowly, she left the room and headed into another. Everywhere she went, even up the rickety, groaning stairs, there were beer cans and bottles, those little bottles of liquor you could buy for like a dollar, and other assorted trash items that were definitely not there _before_ the fire.

The ghost, perhaps allayed by the gifts she’d brought, left her alone this time. He allowed her to move about the house as she wished, and before she left she wandered back into the dining room to find the truck was gone from the table. It was bizarre and unsettling to see such a direct action from a noncorporeal being.

Throughout the next year Sara visited multiple times. Sometimes she brought more offerings, sometimes she only brought trash bags. She cleaned up the house slowly but surely, starting right there in the doorway and making her way throughout the entire thing. Occasionally, she would come in to find her next room had already been taken care of - a bedroom cleared of debris, a bathroom cleansed of the needles and plastic baggies that littered the tub floor. She had run out of trash bags in the kitchen thanks to the plethora of red solo cups and liquor bottles, dusty beer of every single brand lying about. She had come back a week later (her schedule was full what with roller derby and baseball) and the rest of the mess had mysteriously disappeared. She had tried to ask the ghost who had been in to clean, but she couldn’t feel his presence. Instead she heard someone run along the hallway upstairs, a tinkling giggle floating down to her.

She had taken the stairs two at a time in attempt to find the child in the house, calling out all the while, but no one responded. She searched every single room and found nobody.

In what must have once been a bedroom judging by the iron frame that still stood tall, she found the truck she had brought during her second visit. It was immaculate compared to the rest of the room, and she could see from the doorway that there were little marks in the charred floor where someone had rolled it back and forth. She didn’t dare enter the room, as the floor was so burned in some areas she feared it would give under her weight - not to mention the collapsed brick wall and ceiling in one corner that allowed the ivy to trickle in and expand, crawling over much of the room itself. A feeling of deep and bone-aching sorrow overcame Sara at the sight and she found herself breathless, retreating from the room and wishing she had never seen it.

From then on, her visits became more and more infrequent, every two weeks, every three. Every month, every three months. Eventually, Sara disappeared from the home altogether. She had a life now, a girlfriend, was going away to college… She didn’t have time for the ghosts in the house in the woods.

During one of her last visits, as she tossed a new batch of beer cans into a hefty bag, the brown eyes of a little girl watched her from behind what they called the veil. “I like her.” She murmured softly, face fond and smiling lightly. Sara was blonde now, and very tall. Her face looked far away.

“She’s going to disappear soon.”

The girl turned to her brother, who lounged on the ruined frame of a chaise and watched with a stony expression. “They all disappear eventually.”

When he proved to be right, the little girl didn’t admit that it hurt.

Years later, a blonde woman pulled an SUV up to the porch and stepped out. She had sunglasses covering her eyes needlessly in the shade of the woods, and looked over the house blankly before shutting the door and coming up the steps. She felt the presence immediately, and took off her glasses as a smile grew over her lips. “I’m back.” She called out to seemingly no one, not pausing before she headed into the dining room and set down a box of Lindt chocolates she had picked up earlier in the morning. “No. I shouldn’t say back. I’m _home_.”

Sara peered into the hutch half expecting to see the face of the ghost again, but there was nothing there. She did, however, feel something brush up against her hand - soft like a cat rubbing fur against her fingertips - and heard a quiet echo of laughter. “I bought the house.” She explained after a moment of waiting for something else to happen. “If it’s alright with you… I’d like to build it back up.”

As busy as her life may have gotten, Sara never forgot the house or its inhabitants. In fact, her dealings with them had shaped her life significantly. She had looked up the house and its history once in college and knew she wanted to buy it. She had changed her major to real estate law in order to be as informed about the process as possible. She attained a realty license and sold rather extravagant homes in and around Blue Crests to wealthy families who coveted the nice area. She had developed an obsession with supernatural and watched more ghost hunting shows than was probably healthy. Never had she seen a house with more active ghosts than this one.

Once she had settled into this “adult life” she had reached out to the town trust who held the home and its property. She had a sum of money to put down and even more tucked away for the renovation. She offered more than what the property itself was worth and agreed to buy everything as-is, no contractors, no inspections. There was no feasible way they could deny her, and they didn’t.

Sara hadn’t seen the home in years, but it was exactly as she remembered it. There were a few beer cans tossed about, but not nearly as many as there had been back when she was visiting regularly. There was also another rug - not even a _rug_ so much as a cut up slab of carpet - and a glass bowl of water on the dining room table. This was odd, but as she went to pick it up to dump it outside she heard a quiet and clear “ _don’t_.”

Turning around, Sara trailed her eyes over the direction the voice had come from. The corner of the room was empty, but she knew she had really heard the order and not just imagined it. Lightly, she set the bowl back down. “Sorry.” She said quickly, not understanding why the bowl was so important but not wanting to upset the real owner of the house.

After an hour or so of inspecting the place to make sure all was at it should be and another half hour of cleaning out cans and bottles and bags and the like, Sara excused herself from the home and promised she would be back soon.

Later that night, she sat at her kitchen island, shoulders hunched over her bowl of noodles and hair tossed up in a messy bun. She watched the screen of her laptop intently as she dipped a slice of sausage pizza into the broth of the noodles and brought the soggy mess to her mouth. The video she watched was one of her favorite ghost hunting groups, an eclectic band of stoner kids all right around her own age from Portland who made their own pseudo-show. There was a group of three who stayed in front of the camera, getting into shenanigans and attempting to help whichever ghosts were in whatever building they were at, but there was an entire _team_ beyond them. She loved them all dearly and knew each person by name. Malek, Benedict (call me _Ben_ ), and Phoebus were the main hunters. Parker and Ariadne were the tech specialists, always explaining what piece of equipment did what and fixing things as they broke. The videos were all obviously low budget, but the cameramen - Tyler and Blake - made up for that with truly great footage. They both had steady hands and quick response times, allowing them to catch many things that would have otherwise been missed. Devendra was their history buff, offering insight to the past of whatever home they were at. He was a few years older than the rest and held dual masters degrees in American Mythology and History. Sara was convinced he was a supernatural being himself.

The last of their group was a girl with bushy red hair and dark freckles named Charlie, who made an appearance mostly in blooper videos (the group _loved_ posting outtakes and the like and did so for almost every episode they created.) She was basically their voice of reason - their director - and Sara thought she was an absolute genius. She harbored a not-so-subtle crush on the stranger, a fact her friends never failed to tease her for whenever they could.

At the end of their most recent bloopers video, the camera cut to Charlie herself, smiling widely for her audience. “We’re all so happy to announce that we’ll be teaming up with the Travel Channel to bring you a _real_ show.” Her smile only grew as she said it, camera panning out to show the rest of the team behind her. Even Tyler and Blake were there, which begged the question _who was behind the camera_ , but they all looked so happy Sara couldn’t focus on the mysterious camera person for long. “You’ll be able to catch Small Town Haunts every Thursday at 9pm Eastern, 6pm Pacific. And if you yourself have a house you’d like us to inspect, feel free to message us right here on YouTube. I’ll be _personally_ going through to see what destinations we could visit.” Her eyes widened a little as she joked “just don’t bombard me, okay? There’s an… alarming amount of you following us-” “Enough that a REAL tv channel wants us!” Ben piped up from where he stood to Charlie’s left, “and we’d like to start filming as soon as possible. Thank again from all of us. We couldn’t be here without you.”

The video ended with Charlie’s smile still on the screen, and Sara dropped her pizza back into the box with a thud. Her favorite ghost hunting team were getting a tv show?! A _real_ tv show on a _real_ channel that she would be able to record and save in her DVR forever?!

She forced her jaw closed and thought for a long moment about how close she was to Portland. It would be _simple_ for them to hop up to Blue Crests and meet the ghosts in her house. Would they put it on their show?? She needed to calm down, there was no way they would still have any spots open; the video was posted over a month ago and she was just getting a chance to watch it!

Still… what could be the harm in trying, right?

After taking a deep breath and forcing herself to at least close the pizza box, Sara opened up a new message to the STH channel and presented her case. She used her fancy real estate lawyer jargon and everything to sound as professional (and as _least_ “obsessed fangirl”) as possible. Then she took another few deep breaths, closed down her laptop completely, drank a beer despite the fact that it was only Tuesday, and went to bed. She didn’t even do her dishes, too jittery from the fact that she had bought a haunted house and reached out to her favorite ghost hunting team _about_ said haunted house all in one day. It was a lot to process.

Two days later, Sara opened her laptop to see the screen was still up, and there was a response.

She died a little inside, hyperventilated, called her best friend because “ _I don’t know what to do I can’t even READ it oh my god_ ”, then sat herself down at her island and gulped down a large glass of water. It must be a rejection response, right? One of those “Thanks so much, but we’re so swamped with other _better_ offers that we just can’t. Better luck next time!”

“Dear Ms. Portman,” it read. “Thank you so much for reaching out to us! We’ve had offers from the furthest places imaginable - Texas, Massachusetts, London even! - but we have yet to receive a message from someone so close to home!

“We’ve spoken with our producers and the team at the Travel Channel, and if you would be agreeable we would love to shoot your home as our pilot episode. From what we’ve seen Blue Crests is the quintessential small town we want our show to focus on, and from what you’ve written about your experience with the strength of your spirits our interest is piqued!”

Sara took a moment to release a breath she hadn’t known she was holding before shrieking loudly and obnoxiously right there in the kitchen. They wanted to film the house in the woods!! They wanted it to be their _pilot_ episode!! She was dreaming, right? This was some sort of weird ghost-fueled dream that just felt _really real_.

“As for your offer of the pull out couch and pizza, we’re lucky enough to have TC covering our lodging, but if you’ve seen our videos (as I’m assuming you have, based on this message!) the team _never_ turns down food. Ben and Phoebus will be glad to hear they’re getting lunch if nothing else! :)

“If you wouldn’t mind, we can discuss the details more in a real email - smalltownhaunts@gmail - but as of now we’re hoping for an August shoot date. We’d probably be around for a week or so, maybe more if the ghosts are as active as you say they are. Let us know!”

Sara cooed over the smiley face Charlie had used before pressing her hand to her chest to feel just how hard her heart was beating. This was really happening. It was _really happening_.

The next few weeks raced by in a flurry of emails and phone calls. Charlie sounded even nicer than she did in the videos, and Sara also spoke with the producers from the Travel Channel - a douchy guy named Noah and his aloof assistant. They seemed like the type of people who didn’t actually believe in anything supernatural but were riding the lucrative wave ghost shows had created in the past handful of years. Whatever. She didn’t really have to deal with them; she got to deal with the team of her dreams and the ghosts she felt close to and responsible for. She still couldn’t believe it.

The closing had been in April, and the wait for August twelfth could not have come soon enough.

The morning of, she was a tangled ball of nerves. They would be meeting at her office to sign all the contracts before heading out to the house. She was going to get to meet every single member of the team (minus Devendra, who had headed straight from the airport to the town library) and wasn’t sure whether she would barf or pee herself or just completely die of excitement. But they turned out to be the nicest, most comfortable group of people she’d had the pleasure of meeting. The entire ordeal was casual and almost joking, and she could see the excitement in all of their faces to really be filming a show as opposed to a YouTube video.

After an hour she wasn’t really sure felt long _or_ short, but definitely not an hour, they were done. Being the host and homeowner, she stood and clasped her hands with a smile she hoped wasn’t too shaky. She was pretty intimidated despite their easy flow, especially now that she was going to be showing them her ghosts. “Ready to see the house?” She asked as she stepped around the meeting table and gestured toward the door. “I just want to warn you, they can be pretty… temperamental about what they do and don’t like. Don’t try to take the bowl of water off the dining table and for the most part you’ll be good. I’m not sure who keeps refilling it, but they don’t seem to fu-mess with too much else,” Sara sheepishly scratched the back of her head as she caught her slip up, “they actually keep helping me clean the place up, I think? So I haven’t bothered to change the locks yet.” She shrugged. “Some of the local high school kids break in on weekends to drink, so I should probably do that soon, but I’m hoping to figure out what’s going on with the mysterious cleaning before that?”

The leader of their team (other than Charlie, of course) stepped up beside her and held the door open for everyone else to pass through. Malek had soft looking brown skin and the brightest forest green eyes she had seen on a person. He was unsettlingly attractive in person and made her swallow thickly. “I haven’t really known ghosts to clean stuff, only maybe move it around. But we’ll look into it, don’t worry.”

He offered everyone a smile individually as they passed, high-giving Ben and twiddling his fingers against Phoebus as they passed. Then he turned back to Sara and said “we’re really pumped to be here. Thanks for agreeing to be the pilot, I know we’re all a little nervous about it. But it’s great to be starting at a place so close to home and so comfortable for us all. Blue Crests is really cozy!” His friendly smile widened, making his eyes close just slightly. “Let’s go.”


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally enters the house in the woods

“From what I’ve been able to find, the house was built in 1866 by Union General Abraham Margolin for his wife Josephine. Abe served at Fort Hoskins and came home to create this masterpiece for his lovely bride.” Devendra, Small Town Haunt’s resident history expert, gestured widely at the house behind him. He wore a knowing smile and a sharply pressed shirt, having freshly come from town hall where he had been pulling any and all records of the house in the woods. “They’d been married for some years already, actually, but war does tend to throw a wrench into many plans.” Dev shrugged in an “oh well” way and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Two years later, they welcomed a daughter, but the records show evidence of a legal name change about eight years after that. This was…” Dev paused for a moment as though trying to find the words. He was a better actor than the crew gave him credit for, as they all knew he’d known exactly what he was going to say from the moment he found this information. “It was extremely progressive for the time. Truly extraordinary.”

Behind the camera, Blake’s nose was itching. He tried his hardest not to sneeze or move to alleviate the feeling, but the look on his face must have been enough to derail Dev, as he cracked into a grin a moment after speaking and called “cut!”

Charlie was standing directly behind them, and when Blake lowered the camera and sneezed violently, she teased “what’s up Basinger, ghost got your nose or something?”

Blake was far from impressed. He had gotten into this business thanks to a natural talent for angles and a boyfriend obsessed with the supernatural. Now all he had of that was the camera talent. “Shut up.” He half-jokingly retorted, rubbing his nose before picking the bulky camera back up and settling it comfortably on his shoulder. “Dev, keep going. I want to get this completely shot before we even step foot in that place.”

Dev continued with his spiel as Charlie lounged back against the hood of his car, amused at Blake’s attempt at her job. Malek, Ben, and Phoebus were all scattered about the grounds of the charred home, toying with equipment way too expensive to be toyed with and trying to coax whatever ghost Sara was convinced was there out of hiding. Ari and Parker were helping Tyler with his own camera, which had been on the fritz as of late. They’d never had an issue with it before the Travel Channel contract, but they all had seemed to chalk it up to divine intervention (read: spirit intervention) telling them it needed to be replaced with that first hefty paycheck.

“In 1877 the Margolins welcomed another little girl. Records say they lived in the house until Abe and Josie died in 1886 after their carriage flipped one night.” Dev shook his head sadly. “Dallas, the older child, was eighteen. Hazel was only nine.

“From there Dallas took over as guardian. Records show he was a botanist, and from what we can see if we look around this corner-” Dev led Blake and the camera around the side of the house as he spoke and stilled again once positioned perfectly for Blake to get him on one side and the amazing rusted structure panned out behind him. “He worked from home. This was once his greenhouse. Imagine it filled with plants from all over the world, hanging from the rafters and doused in sunlight.” Devendra looked over his shoulder at the gilded iron and sparse panes of glass as though he were reminiscing from personal memory, a fond smile on his face. “Now, we haven’t yet been inside, but from what you can see here it looks like nothing escaped the fire of 1888 intact.”

He turned back to the camera now, emotion somber, and clasped his hands in front of his body. “No one knows how the fire itself started, but we do know it happened in the middle of the night. We can only guess both Dallas and Hazel were home, though no bodies were ever found.” 

Malek wandered into the frame with that, coming to pause beside Dev and watch him with rapt attention as though he didn’t already know all of this. “We’re hoping these two are the ghosts the owner called about,” Mal explained as he turned to the camera with an easy smile, a dimple forming on the side where his lip was higher. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Abe and Josie will also be here.”

Picking up smoothly where Malek left off, Dev finished “there’ve been reports throughout the years - mostly from teenagers - of sudden temperature drops, smells of burning flesh, and overwhelmingly sounds. People have heard steps being taken, a little girl laughing… Singing, too, interestingly enough… We’re here to get to the bottom of it and maybe even help someone cross over. Thanks for joining us in Blue Crests, Oregon for the first episode of Small Town Haunts.”

He ended with a friendly smile and Blake cut the camera off. “Nice.” He offered the other with a quick high five - ignoring Malek completely - before heading back to the van where Tyler, Parker, and Ari were still tinkering with the other camera. “Intro’s done.” He glanced at the camera as he passed, setting his own down beside it. “Still acting up?”

Ari clicked the power button and the group watched as it turned on, loaded up the preview screen that they never used, and… stayed on. “Victory.” They grinned at their own ingenuity at however they had managed to fix it and fist bumped Parker. “Ty. Use this thing until it dies. Don’t turn it off, cause god knows how long it’ll take to turn back on if it does.”

“Understood.” Tyler picked the camera up and slung it onto his shoulder in one swift motion. He and Blake shared a long look before he leaned in, camera and all, and pressed his lips lightly to Blake’s cheek. “I’ll get Phoebus and Ben being idiots in the yard first. Nothing like ghostly shenanigans in broad daylight, yeah?” He was speaking to Charlie, who had also wandered over to the small gathering and was watching the pair of hosts over her shoulder, but his eyes hadn’t left Blake, who was fiddling idly with an EMF meter. “From what Sara told us,” Charlie responded as she looked away from Ben and Phoebus and gathered her hair into a rather large and fluffy ponytail, “they’ve actually been really active during daytime hours. Definitely see if they can find anything. Parker, do me a favor and make sure everyone has a walkie talkie? This forest is massive and you know all of us are stupid enough to get lost in a paper bag.”

With a nod and a quick two finger salute, Parker said “aye aye captain” and gathered up a handful of small machines. Ari and Blake each motioned to their own, already clipped to their hips, and Tyler pivoted on his heel to walk backward, holding a hand up and saying “hit me, P.” Parker didn’t hesitate to toss the receiver to him, and would admit that he was slightly impressed with how easily he caught it considering his camera weighed at least fifteen pounds. Tyler was both strong and agile. Everyone thought he was a darling, which really was true; especially with Blake, who was a little jaded to say the least. As he watched Ty turn back around and head toward Ben and Phoebus Parker thought about how glad he was Tyler had been there to pick up Blake’s broken shards after the Great Solhinger (their nickname for the volatile couple) Breakup of Last Year.

Snapping out of his daze as Charlie cleared her throat, Parker offered an embarrassed smile and hurried off to make sure everyone else had the two-ways they needed. “Ari,” Charlie turned her attention to the other tech person of their team, “I need you to make sure those three have EMFs and static meters. We’ll use the EVPs on the cameras for now, but make sure they have fresh batteries just in case. And bring Malek the SB7, please. He’s always the one with the most questions anyway. If he can get an answer in daylight who knows what we could find at night.”

“One step ahead of you.” Ari pointed out toward where Malek was fidgeting by the porch. They could both tell he was impatient and excited to get inside, though that wasn’t what Ari had been gesturing to. In his hand was the SB7, a specialized white noise distributor that assisted in making responses clearer when one of the boys asked a spirit a question. It was a request they had made upon writing up the Travel Channel contract, and the executive in charge of said contract, Wendy, had agreed wholeheartedly that they would be provided one. Why they hadn’t asked for a new camera for Tyler Charlie didn’t really know. She chalked it up to giddiness of getting a show and forgetting things they needed for things they wanted. Lesson learned. “Also, they all have their EMFs and statics. I’ll get the batteries in the EVPs though.”

Charlie sent a thankful smile to Ari, one of her favorite people on the team (not that she played favorites really). “It’s like you can read my mind. You sure you aren’t paranormal yourself?”

With a quick grin, Ari responded “the world may never know. Get over there before Malek has an aneurysm. He’s about to wet himself in anticipation.”

Following Ari’s sage advice, Charlie headed over to their resident ball of nerves. She saw Sara, the owner of the house, watching them both in her peripherals. “I can tell you’re ready to get started.” She gave him her best “soothing mom voice” and lay a hand on his bicep. “I promise you’ll get in there soon enough. Do me a favor, though? Go take a hit or something. Calm yourself down. Your jitters are giving me anxiety.”

Malek had glanced at Charlie when she materialized out of thin air, but had since gone back to looking up at the looming form of the brick house. “There’s something about this house.” He sighed, voice distant. “Something different. I can’t put my finger on it, but I need to get in there. Who’s my camera man?”

Malek had a terrible habit of going off by himself, but they had tried to split up the dynamic duo of Phoebus and Ben and the result had been a disastrous mess. Malek was more serious about what they did as compared to the joking and lighter nature of the other two, and despite the fact that they were all great friends and did enjoy working together, they occasionally bumped heads or irritated one another when they all tried to focus on the same task in the same place. It had become the norm for Malek to take a camera man and toddle off to the darkest, creepiest areas of the buildings they were in while the other two hosts stayed behind with the remaining camera man and shot footage in the lighter and less “murders happened here” parts. “I’ve got you with Blake today, but I know you’ve been on poor terms lately.” Malek and Blake could usually put aside their emotional breakup and on-again-off-again relationship for the sake of filming, but sometimes when their tempers flared - mostly Blake’s, and he was perfectly aware of that fact - they had to be separated. “If you two have any issues just come find me and I’ll switch you.”

Malek waved his hand dismissively and retorted “We’ll behave, mom. No worries” just as Blake appeared at their side. “Everything’s all set.” He informed them both with a quick glance back at Parker and a thumbs up. “Whenever you’re ready, Charlie, we can go ahead and get filming.”

As though they hadn’t even had the warning conversation about Malek’s camera man/ex, his face lit up and and looked at her with a mixture of wonder and amazement. He looked a little bit like a puppy, she thought but didn’t say out loud. With a large and overly dramatic sigh, Charlie rolled her eyes. “ _Fine_.” She groaned, opening her palm to the porch they were standing in front of. “But remember, this is _professional._ We’re big league now.” Turning to look over her shoulder, she yelled “Team!! Let’s go!” And waited for them all to putter their ways over to her.

Only after everyone else had gathered did Charlie continue. They looked like a sports team all huddled together to discuss a play, and Sara hung back a little ways to give them space, but not far enough to be out of earshot. “Okay.” Charlie began her pep talk with a deep breath. “We’ve essentially made it already. Like I told these two-” she gestured vaguely at Blake and Malek, “we’re in the big leagues. We’re like Ghost Adventures, everyone, minus the douchebag who wants to commandeer the entire show.”

Blake snorted quietly to himself and earned an elbow from Tyler in response.

“Go in here and let’s do what we always do. Talk to ghosts. It’s no different than any other time we’ve gone hunting, we’re just getting a nice fat paycheck this time. Right?” She smiled at each member of the team individually as they mulled over that thought, seeing the gears turning behind their eyes before most of them nodded in agreement. Things had been a little tense since Malek and Blake’s breakup, but they were starting to look up, especially since the TC first reached out to Charlie about a potential contract. They were going to be living large; they just needed to film this first.

“Sara’s been sweet enough to offer us lunch,” Charlie glanced at the blonde over her shoulder, bringing the slightest flush to Sara’s cheeks, “so I’ve let her know exactly how ravenous you all can be. Get as much done in the daylight as you possibly can. Don’t forget to mark where the static cameras are going.” She looked pointedly at Parker, who had forgotten to place tape in the areas their unmanned cameras were supposed to go once. They’d made it work without them, but having them was paramount now that they were really filming. “Malek, don’t wander off by yourself this time. And if you must, at least take one of the handhelds. I want every spike in the meters, every EVP and unexplained shadow caught on camera. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. Don’t be lazy.”

There was scattered chorus of “yes mom” before the group broke apart, Tyler and Blake slinging their cameras back onto their shoulders and heading toward the charred front door. Blake was already recording, wanting to catch as much of the building as he could in the daylight. They would be “locked” in the house that night (as much as one could be locked in a house with no door, that was) and he wanted to see which rooms and angles would be best for when he needed to shoot in the dark.

Tyler stayed behind with the rest of the group, ready to record at a moment’s notice. Ben, Phoebus, and Malek were discussing their game plan. “I say we do it like always.” Ben shrugged, watching the second floor windows as though a spirit would appear in one at any second. “Go through and film what we can in the daylight, set the booms and statics near the staircases, bedrooms… we don’t know where they died, so maybe leave a camera in the most burned up room? I don’t know, man. Why fix something that isn’t broken, you know?”

Malek picked up where he trailed off, nodding pensively. “I see what you mean, but there is something different about this place. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s, like, our pilot episode on a channel we actually watch, or something? My aunt’s gonna be watching this, man. I don’t want to disappoint her.” He turned his eyes from Ben to Tyler. “I want to get every nook and cranny of this house. I don’t care if we do have to provoke them, I want something conclusive.” Malek was usually very laid back about his ghost hunting technique, going out of his way not to anger anything paranormal. He had seen what pissing off spirits led to, and refused to be responsible for any of his team getting hurt. At least, not on the job. If they wanted to get hurt once the cameras stopped rolling that was on them. “All I’m saying is let’s try to tie up any loose ends we might find. But Ben, you have a point. Switching up the tech isn’t going to do anything but throw off our game.” Phoebus nodded sagely at this, chewing his bottom lip idly and tapping his foot against the grass. “So we do a mix of what we normally do. Set up everything just the same. Parker’s got that. He’s good at what he does. But we’ve got all this other tech we didn’t have before, so let’s not be stingy about using it, know what I mean? We might as well get accustomed to how it all works anyway.”

Leaning out of their smaller huddle, Phoebus called over to Charlie “hey Dots. I know we’ve just barely started and all, but did you let Sara know about the dietary restrictions? Mal’s already a little hangry, he’s turning into a diva.”

Malek punched Phoebus on the shoulder hard enough to sting, but not enough that he didn’t laugh about it. “Shut up, Kells.” He rolled his eyes as Charlie did the exact same. “Of course she knows.” She yelled back at them from across the yard where she stood with Ari at the back of the van. “Do I look like an amateur to you, Pheeb? I could run your sorry lives with my eyes closed.”

From inside the house, two pairs of brown eyes watched the group with curiosity. “There’s a man in our house.” The little girl looked up to her brother quickly before glancing out toward the stairs. “He’s carrying a funny box. I’m gonna go see what it is.”

Her older brother hadn’t looked away from the darker skinned boy with green eyes since he had gotten out of their car. “Be careful, Haze.” He warned her affectionately, but in a tone that said he wouldn’t hesitate to push someone down the stairs again if need be. This group was odd. They didn’t look like drunken teenagers here to party, and they were with Sara, the woman who had bought the house. There was something easy and somehow simultaneously tense about them all. He was wary of them.

After a long time talking to the blond boy with one leg and the native boy with the braid, the one who had caught his attention called “hey Blake!” And looked toward the house. A moment later Hazel was back at his side and the Latino boy was back within his line of sight. There was something about that one he didn’t care for, but he couldn’t put his finger on it…

“What’s up, Solh.” Blake ran a hand through his hair after setting his camera down beside his feet. “Listen, I think you’re gonna want to start in the library, that’s-”

Malek cut Blake off with a quick “You’re assigned to me for now, so tell me as we head in. Ty’s gonna go with Pheebs and Ben to check this downstairs area, you and I will take the upstairs.” He held up a roll of tape as Blake and Tyler exchanged a look. Malek had this way with people - like they had his undivided attention any time they spoke; like his entire world revolved around them. At one time his entire world had revolved around Blake. Now that it didn’t, Blake found himself feeling constantly shoved to the side for better, more important ventures. Tyler understood that feeling and could pick Blake up almost whenever it happened. They wouldn’t get the chance to talk until lunch, though, and lunch was a long time away.

Rolling his shoulders before picking his camera back up, Blake mumbled a quick “mhm. Let’s get in there so we can take a nap before lock in.”

This part was easiest to film. Ghosts didn’t seem to be as active during the day as they were at night, so it would mostly be Malek gawking at the inside of the home and the EMF meter spiking occasionally. It never jumped high enough to warrant Malek reaching out to try contacting the spirit, not during the day, but it was almost always enough to let them know there was definitely some residual energy in the place. 

They moved through the foyer and parlor rooms as one cohesive unit, but branched off in the hallway as Malek and Blake moved toward the kitchen and the other three headed their own ways. In the dining room was the crystal bowl filled with water that the owner had warned them about. Malek mused over it for a few seconds for the camera, spouting off some nonsense about how it was a clear quartz decanter, “very useful for assisting in paranormal communication. The owner says she didn’t put this here, but whoever did was undoubtedly trying to make it easier to speak with these spirits. We need to figure out who did this.”

From there they traversed all around the house. The library was by far the most burned room - almost everything was reduced to soot and ash. Opposite that was a large and opulent office that was directly attached to the greenhouse. Malek marveled at the ornate detailing of the ironwork that created the plants’ gilded cage, and Blake made sure to capture it all from the best angle possible. No one in their group could really be considered ugly, but Malek had always been a treat to behold - especially when his eyes shone bright as he walked through centuries of history, fingers unconsciously trailing shelves of empty pots that once held proud and exotic plants. “The owner of the house was a botanist.” He mused more to himself than the camera before catching himself and smiling toward Blake. “I can _feel_ the energy here,” he looked around as though in a daze, “can you, Blake?”

It was an invitation for Blake to insert himself into the moment, and Malek held up his much smaller handheld camera with a grin. Blake himself glanced around the broken glass and withered, petrified shrubbery before sighing. “It makes me feel _sad_. Like I can… remember it at its former glory, and now to see it as it is sort of breaks my heart.” He looked back at the camera Malek had in front of his nose as he watched the tiny screen. “Which is weird, because I’ve never stepped foot in this house before. Didn’t know it existed until a few months ago.”

Nodding in understanding, Malek added “I get it. There’s like a feuding sort of feeling for me. I’m saddened to see it like this, but I’m also… happy it still exists? I’m not sure how to explain it.” He looked up at Blake over the screen of the camera. “It definitely isn’t us feeling this, though. There’s mad energy in this room.” He held up the EMF meter for Blake’s larger, more professional camera to see. It spiked at twenty and then bobbed its way back down to four. “We aren’t alone here.”

Turning his back to Blake and the camera, Malek fumbled with the SB7, turning it on and filling the room with a soft white noise, and carefully called out “hello? We know you’re with us. Can you make a noise if you hear me? Or move something?”

Silence and stillness, except for the steady, rhythmic jumping of the EMF meter and the hum of the SB7. He tried again. “Show us you’re here, please.”

Blake’s keen ears picked up on the sound of a creaking floorboard, but he wasn’t sure if the camera itself would detect the noise over the SB7. “Did you hear that?” He asked Malek, who shushed him curtly, eyes wide with wonder. He nodded, amazed that they had gotten such a clear reaction so early in the day. “Who’s here with us? Dallas, is that you??”

The meter jumped again as Dallas gasped in surprise on the other side of the veil. They knew his name?? Did that mean they knew what happened to him?

The doors that connected the office to the greenhouse rattled, and Malek swiveled his gaze from Blake to them. He didn’t wait for his camera man before heading to them and yanking them open, a feat considering the greenery that had begun to grow through the broken panels and along the ground in front of the doors.

Shells of plants and empty pots littered almost every inch of workspace, some still bearing the blackened marks of the fire, and Malek walked around like any sudden movement would shatter the precarious peace of the magnificent room. Blake followed him in silence, hoping to catch another noise, a glimpse, a movement; any proof that they weren’t alone here.

When he reached the workbench farthest from the door, Malek stopped. “Blake,” he called quietly, “come look at this.”

Blake hurried over, carefully stepping over the withered stalks of plants that had once been taller than he was, and pointed the camera at what had caught Mal’s undivided attention. It was an old leather bound journal, weather worn and faded from the sun. Malek slowly flipped through the pages, a dazed look dulling his eyes, while Blake made sure to get the moment captured perfectly on film. The ledger was handwritten in minuscule but orderly cursive, and detailed various hybrid plants that the botanist must have been researching.

“Is this yours?” Malek asked the chilled air. “Was this your work?”

The meter jumped to eight and then stilled to zero. They were alone once again.

While Malek and Blake filmed in the library, office, and greenhouse, Phoebus and Ben wandered the rest of the place. It looked like it had been so grand back before the fire had reduced it to rubble and brick studs, and the duo split up at the stairs. Phoebus headed back into the parlor as Ben traipsed up the steps (since Malek had abandoned his designated area in favor of the library, which was not on the second floor), and Tyler, torn on which man to follow, elected to remain downstairs where at least they knew the floor was safer.

There wasn’t anything spectacular upstairs minus the views from the crumbled walls of the rooms, but Ben meandered around anyway, handheld camera blinking to signify that it was recording, waiting for Phoebus and Ty to catch up with him as he knew they eventually would.

He found himself in the doorway of the most burned up room - the one with ivy growing wild along the floor, almost to the spot in which he stood. There was a toy truck there, which he remembered Charlie briefing them on when she had discussed exactly what made this house so interesting for them to shoot their pilot in. Filming this was simple - he offered a brief synopsis of what he knew of the toy and the story the owner had provided - and continued around the room, getting a wide shot. He looked around slowly, not wanting to disturb the area, when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

There was a rocking horse in the far corner of the room from where the wall had given way - to the right of the doorframe - and it was slowly moving back and forth. He figured it could probably have been the wind, except for the fact that he hadn’t felt any type of breeze since they entered the house. For it being as open to the elements as it was it was spectacularly… untouched. Unaffected by the wind. Nothing else moved, not even the green leaves sprawled along the floor. And yet, the rocking horse… rocked.

He held the camera on the spot, called around the room, looked at his EMF (which read zero and wasn’t wavering) and then backed out of the room, unsettled by the motions in the corner. Into the camera, he offered “holy fuck that was terrifying. Spectacular, but terrifying. You guys saw that I didn’t move from the doorway. There’s no wind. But like… holy shit, man.”

Downstairs, Phoebus and Tyler were experiencing something eerily similar and yet altogether different.

They had just come out of the parlor and were walking toward the stairs to catch up with Ben when Phoebus felt himself go cold and heard his EVP meter static. Freezing, he motioned for Tyler to pause and pulled the device from his pocket. He held it up to the camera, whispered “I just recorded a noise” and then asked cautiously “is someone here?”

As clear as day, a giggle like bells rang through the EVP.

Phoebus managed not to drop it just as Tyler managed not to drop his camera, but they both gaped at each other for a second before Phoebus breathed “holy shit.” He asked for more noise, another laugh, anything else, but this time, the EVP stayed silent. The EMF read zero. They were alone in the room again and truthfully, they were scared shitless. Had they dealt with real ghosts before? Of course they had. But never something as clear as that giggle and strong enough to be contacting them during the day.

Ben almost barreled into Tyler as he came crashing down the stairs. “There’s something upstairs” he exclaimed breathlessly just as Phoebus caught his arms and helped him upright. “A rocking horse. It moved.”

“Dude we just heard someone _giggle._ Like a real, honest to god _giggle._ ” Phoebus was just as amazed as Ben, and broke into a half-wild grin. 

“There are really ghosts here. This wasn’t a fluke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut this chapter yet again. Sorry it took me so long to get it up, I wrote about 7 of the 10 pages MONTHS ago and then life got shaken up like a coke bottle and exploded. Hope you guys like it, please don’t forget to leave kudos or (even better!) comments. Thanks!


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